


no matter, any weather, we’re together

by cowboylakay



Series: years past, it remains [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arthur Survives the Mountain Fight, Epilogue, Fluff, House building, M/M, Spoilers, bc i can’t get this out of my mind, this is just sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25587682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboylakay/pseuds/cowboylakay
Summary: Arthur, John, and Charles build Beecher’s Hope.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Series: years past, it remains [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1857202
Comments: 17
Kudos: 115





	no matter, any weather, we’re together

“Alright, now, lift on three- one, two—“

They all groan at once, bearing the heavy wooden weight of the wall’s frame to move it upright. As they hold the frame firmly, Arthur grabs a hammer and starts lining the marked areas with nails, while Charles and John both catch their breath. It’s tough work, putting up a house with a small crew of three useful people, but the whole ordeal could’ve been a lot harder had they needed to cut the wood themselves. Uncle’s knowledge had proved useful enough, even though the man takes it as an excuse to sit out of doing any hard work.

“Well, that’s a wall done,” Arthur says, wiping his brow as he hangs the hammer on his belt. He purses his lips, looking at the bare frame that was all skeleton and no meat. “Sorta. Gettin’ there.”

“You’ve got about, uh,” Uncle pipes up, looking over the manual they left lying on a table, “Fourteen of those to go, with the doorframe. Best get a move on, or you’ll stay stuck in the doubles!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t see you helpin’ one bit,” John grumbles back, avoiding wiping his forehead with his sawdust covered gloves. Charles drinks from a tin flask attached to his hip, before offering it to Arthur, who takes a similar swig. “Could be done faster with four instead of three.”

“ _Christ,_ that’s strong,” Arthur whistles, face contorting into an expression that’s equal part disgust and relief. He hands the flask back to Charles, who makes no attempt to hide his smile.

“I-I’m sick, John! Y’can’t let a sick man work himself to death, that’d just be cruel!” Uncle practically whimpers, touching his back with utmost care.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Charles cuts in, right before John opens his mouth for another retort. “He’s right about one thing. If we don’t get moving now, we’ll have to do more tomorrow to make up for the slow progress.” He gestures to the ground by the foundation, with another frame laying there. “Same thing, Arthur.”

“Yes, sir,” Arthur quips teasingly, narrowly avoiding Charles suddenly overreaching leg towards his shin. He moves to one side of the frame while Charles stands by the other, hands clasped around the thick wood. “One, two—“

They make fairly quick work before long, four of the wall frames set up and neatly nailed to the foundation by the time the sky darkens into a molten orange. Tired from a day’s work, all of them relax by the campfire, burning stronger after Arthur tosses another log into it. They mostly just focus on eating the stew Charles (with a bit of help from Arthur and John and a lot of unhelpful advice from Uncle) and relaxing their muscles, sitting on the ground and warming their feet by the fire.

John retires at some point, seeking out his bedroll with the kind of grace only a blind, deaf, and drunk fool could have. Uncle, a drunk fool himself, also retires to his sleeping area, which happens to be a tree not far from where the house was, leaving Arthur and Charles alone by the main campfire.

As soon as Uncle stumbles away from view, Arthur sighs and leans against Charles, almost deflating in the way he pushes against him. Charles takes his weight easily, heavier now than he remembers from eight years ago, but still the same kind of solid and firm that was uniquely Arthur. Charles sets his head on top of Arthur’s, letting out a smaller sigh of his own.

“Who knew buildin’ houses was that hard?” Arthur asks him then, glancing up towards him and smiling when he sees Charles’ smile. “Makes a feller wish he was back up in them mountains, huntin’ a giant boar.”

“A giant boar?” Charles echoes, more interested in hearing Arthur talk rather than the actual subject matter, though they were arguably the same kind of interest. “In the mountains?”

“Sure, bigger than a grizzly and tougher to kill than one, too,” Arthur says, the expression on his face so bright that Charles is having difficulty keeping his eyes on him. He regales the story of when he went hunting with an old veteran named Hamish, who he had met just after he returned from Guarma, before meeting his end at the sharp tusks of the beast. A sullenness falls on his face as he talks about the man’s horse, Buell.

“I rode him, that last ride,” He says, voice almost small and far away as his hand clenches in Charles’. “Didn’t expect to get shot down, but I shoulda seen it comin’. Watched him die and felt like I failed Hamish.”

Soothingly, Charles opens Arthur’s fist, unclenching it with his own deft fingers and slipping his palm against his clammy one. “You didn’t. From what you’ve said, I’m sure Hamish would’ve understood Buell dying a heroic death.”

“Heroic, huh?” Arthur repeats, a misty smile on his face. To Charles, when he smiles like that, it’s hard to remember a time when he was so weak he couldn’t ride too hard, unless he wanted to descend into fits of coughs and wheezes. “Guess you could say that. He was a real good horse.”

Charles hums then, pressing a gentle kiss against Arthur’s temple. The fire crackles before them, whispering into the night as the two of them lay there, side by side and holding so much of each other, like they couldn’t bare to let go. It’s only been a little over a week since they’ve seen each other again, a speck of dust in comparison to the monolith that was the eight years of their separation. Despite this, they fell back into their old habits with each other, if a little bit more desperate for affection.

“Never got to ask,” He says, watching shadows dance across his face. “What did you do, before we found each other again?”

Arthur smiles a little at the wording, dopey like a new groom. The expression fades into something more neutral and controlled, as was his reaction every time he thought about the past. “After they left me on that mountain, I thought I was gone for good. I remember feeling really heavy, but then I was.. loosening up, in a way. Like I was.. goin’,” Arthur says, something washing over his vision like a rain cloud, and lasting just as long. “A woman I’d taught to hunt, Charlotte Balfour, she helped me out. Dragged my sorry ass over to her wagon and did her damnedest to nurse me back to somethin’ resembling a human. She was a city woman living in a cabin north of Roanoke Ridge with her husband, till her husband died of a bear attack or some sorts, and she knew well enough of different kinds’a diseases and illnesses.” He fidgets with the cloth of his pant leg, rubbing the material between two fingers. “Took care of me like I was family. Real kind, Mrs. Balfour. Kind and good, like few others. Saw me on death’s door and wrestled with him just to get my sorry hide back on me.”

“Seems I owe her for that,” Charles says, smiling at the sudden bashfulness in Arthur’s expression. Arthur waves him off in the same manner.

“You say the nicest things,” He snickers, pink in the cheek. “She took care of me for... near two years. The consumption was brutal, at the stage it was in— seems riding hard and fighting harder all those months after I got it wasn’t the right idea.” He laughs a little sadly. “Was useless for more than half of that time— couldn’t do much when my hackin’ scared away all the game— but she still did her best to get me back on my feet. Didn’t ask for nothing in return, just that I write to her and visit her when I’m in the area.”

“Good woman,” Charles says, the smile on his face a tiny bit warmer. “You deserve being treated kindly. Back then, now, and later on.”

“Aw, stop it, you,” Arthur snickers again, cheeks redder as he lightly smacks Charles’ arm, “Hard for a man to be _decent_ when you say them things.”

“Then don’t be,” Charles tells him, arm snaking around to Arthur’s waist. The touch is so achingly familiar that it lights every nerve in him on fire just remembering every experience they had before they said goodbye to each other, all those years ago.

To his credit, Arthur takes the touch in stride, though his smile is more tired and fond than anything else. “Maybe another time. I don’t have all your spryness anymore, I’m an old man.”

“You’re hardly three years older than me,” Charles retorts, but they both know he understands, even agrees. Today had been tiring in a few ways, but most of it was physical. “Another time. Tonight, I think, we could both do with some rest.”

“Mm, already ahead of you there,” Arthur mumbles drowsily, slinking out of Charles’ embrace and crawling over to their bedrolls by the fire. Charles follows him after snuffing out the flames, settling down right next to Arthur, who waits with his arms open.

Arthur sighs again, sounding content. “This’ll never get old, I feel.”

“Will you still say that, twenty, thirty years from now?” Charles asks him, though he can tell the answer from Arthur’s face anyways.

“Don’t know if I’ll live that long, but maybe I’ve still got some of that luck from after that mountain,” He says quietly, arms wrapped around Charles as he paws at the muscle in his chest. He presses a kiss against the back of Charles’ neck, where the hair had been pushed away. “If I do, there ain’t anyone else on this damned rock I’d spend the rest of my days with than you.”

Charles is quiet for a moment, rubbing the pads of his fingers on the arm around his middle. Then, after a silence long enough that Arthur doesn’t think he’ll respond, he says, “I love you, too.”

They both fall asleep smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of my brain’s canon where arthur survives the mountain fight, is helped by charlotte, and spends the last few years keeping a low profile and trying to find charles and john as inconspicuously as he can. maybe one day i’ll write about them finding each other, or arthur’s recovery, but for now, have this little thing.
> 
> i’m [lakay](https://cowboylakay.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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